


Addicted

by AnnaofAza



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Humor, M/M, candy crush addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9064222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: “So, in short, you’re playing a game with an always elusive goal, which makes the whole thing rather pointless.”“I guess,” Eggsy says. “But isn’t it a bit early in the day to get all existential?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marginaliana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/gifts).



> This is inspired by that episode of _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ , where Captain Holt is addicted to a Candy Crush-esque game. It's hilarious, and y'all should check it out. 
> 
> (Whoops, someone else wrote this prompt, too!)

One good thing about having an office job is having someone being able to pop by for a visit. Harry, of course, misses being in the field as often as he used to be, but between dying in a parking lot in Kentucky and getting to lean over his desk to kiss Eggsy Unwin, there’s no contest.

Right now, the wind’s blowing so strongly that branches are creaking, while the rain’s coming down in fast, heavy drops, pounding relentlessly against the roof and windows, but in Harry’s office, there’s nothing but warmth. The fireplace is lit, two thermoses of tea are steaming, and Eggsy’s feet is occasionally brushing against his. It’s such a quiet, peaceful atmosphere that it’s a shame when tinny music and beeping disturbs the peace.

“Eggsy?” There’s no response, just the cheerful carnival-esque music and strings of chiming noises. “Eggsy!”

“Just a minute, just a—yes!” Eggsy grins, as a deep, male voice proclaims _sugar crush!_ and rounds of beeping go off.

“You need to finish your report,” Harry lightly scolds.

“I _have_ finished!” Eggsy protests, holding up his tablet. “See? Confirmation checkmark! You should have it in your account.”

“Very well, then,” Harry says, noting an alert blinking in the corner of his own laptop screen. “What are you playing?”

“Candy Crush,” Eggsy admits. He taps the screen, turning it so it faces Harry. There are rows of brightly-colored candies in different shapes. “You just line up three of the same color and…” In a flash of light, the candies disappear, and more drop down. “And you can connect four of them or get them into this T or L shape, and _then,_ you get some candies you can wipe the whole board clean with.”

“Goodness,” Harry says mildly. “How many levels is it?”

Eggsy shrugs, turning his attention back to his phone. “Oh, it doesn’t end.”

“So, in short, you’re playing a game with an always elusive goal, which makes the whole thing rather pointless.”

“I _guess_ ,” Eggsy says. “But isn’t it a bit early in the day to get all existential?”

It’s a very close thing, but Harry does not roll his eyes. He used to do it quite frequently in his younger days, until Merlin told him he looked like a brat whose father wouldn’t let him use his card to buy a yacht. “As long as you don’t bring it along for your surveillance mission,” Harry instead says. He knows, of course, Eggsy will never do such a thing, but Eggsy gives him a look of mock indignation anyway.

“I’m _very_ responsible,” Eggsy says, then raises an eyebrow. A familiar smirk crawls across his face. “Unless...you don’t want me to be?”

Harry forces himself to keep still at a suggestive wink, seeing Eggsy’s finger come down to pause his game. “I will not become one of those agents who shag over their desks,” he manages to reply, pulling up Eggsy’s report. Noting the multiple uses of exclamation points and capital letters, Harry tries to not smile as he highlights _I then kicked their arses,_ then types a brief comment about specificity.

Eggsy’s smirk is now a full-on leer. “There are _other_ agents who shag over their desks? Here? Real, live gentleman spies?”

“I refuse to take this conversation further.” _Dignity, Hart,_ he reminds himself. _Dignity._

“But what better way than to offend Chester?” Eggsy gestures around the office with its tall bookshelves and two armchairs perched in front of the fire. Harry had replaced most of the furniture, but had kept the antique desk, toying with carving his initials into the finish like a disobedient schoolboy. “Come on, what if his ghost is still lingering around here? Don’t you want to scandalize him one last time?”  

Harry considers it, then closes his laptop.

* * *

“Ah, Arthur, there you are. We have accumulated a new donor, who—” Merlin pauses, then looks accusingly at Harry. “Was Galahad here this afternoon?”

“Yes,” Harry replies honestly, pushing aside a file.

His friend closes his eyes for a moment. “And I’m guessing he paid you a visit?”

“We did paperwork.”

“Mm-hm. _Paperwork_ makes your hair looks windblown.”

“Maybe I went outside.”

“In this weather?” Merlin raises a hand before Harry can try to explain. “No. In the future, please be more discreet. I personally would rather think you two slept in separate beds for the duration of your relationship, but…”

“My apologies,” Harry says, reaching up to try to smooth down his hair. Perhaps he should go to his room in the manor and look in the mirror after Merlin is gone. “You were saying about the donor?”

Merlin sighs, then turns his tablet back on.

* * *

 “...And as punishment, I have extra paperwork, while you have to mind the shop,” Harry explains, mindful of the people around him. Surveillance missions are _minding the shop_ , break-and-steal ones are _taking inventory,_ honeypots are _entertaining donors,_ and so on and so forth. Eggsy had taken great pleasure in talking about his missions with _real spy codewords,_  often looking a bit happier about _commissioning a suit_ than an average tailor.  

Eggsy groans. “And they say _you’re_ in charge.”

“I can assure you that is most untrue.” Harry shifts to his left foot and pulls his coat tighter around him. Normally, he’s accustomed to waiting for hours at a time for a target to show up in all sorts of weather, but that doesn’t mean his patience is limitless. “Perhaps we should have scheduled our trip to the London Eye on a less crowded evening.”

“Well, too late now,” Eggsy says cheerfully. “Besides, Daisy wants to see all the lights. Don’t you?”

Daisy, bundled up in a puffy jacket and cotton scarf, nods, gazing around at the crowds and blue lights twinkling on the bare branches of the trees lining the way to the London Eye. “I’m cold,” she complains.

“Well, Mum’s getting us something nice and warm,” Eggsy says, lifting her into his arms and nuzzling her cheek. “And besides, the line’s moving a bit faster now, yeah?”

That’s not exactly true, but Daisy seems pacified enough. Harry watches Eggsy bounce his sister a little, smiling. He’s certain the people around him think Eggsy and Daisy are related to him, especially with the addition of Michelle, who had reminded him rather coolly that _he_ was older than both Eggsy and herself. If he isn’t being seen as Michelle’s husband, he’s being seen as her _father_.

Before Harry’s mind can start delving too much into this, Eggsy asks, “So, Harry, did Merlin pass on how to beat Level 377?”

“What?” Harry asks.

“On Candy Crush,” Eggsy says. “I guess I can buy enough cheats, but it’s the strategy of it, you know?”

“Merlin plays _Candy Crush_?”

“Oh, he pretends he doesn’t, but he’s all caught up until the app adds more levels.”

Harry tries to imagine his often-inscrutable friend enthusiastically swiping at rows of candies, brow furrowed in concentration as he’d seen Eggsy do. Perhaps the competitive element draws him to it. “He hasn’t told me, but I’m sure you’ll succeed.”

“Harder than it looks,” Eggsy comments, then at Harry’s blank stare, says, “It _is._ Pull out my phone and give it a go.”

He moves so his pocket is exposed, and Harry dutifully plucks out the mobile. Eggsy briefly takes it, unlocking it with a thumbprint.

With a tap, Harry opens the game.

* * *

While Eggsy’s taking a shower that evening, Harry glances at his phone left on the kitchen table.

 _No,_ he thinks.

* * *

While Eggsy is doing his surveillance mission three days later, Harry does paperwork. It's tedious, dull, and seems to grow larger by the hour, so it's a relief when his phone finally, finally alerts him to a message from Eggsy.

_Heading back to debrief. Fifteen minutes away. :)_

Fifteen minutes until Eggsy comes back.

Harry drums his fingers on the desk. There's little time to run out and get takeout, the dogs are settled into their kennels, and the recruits are eating dinner. Merlin’s handling Tristan’s mission, and Percival is still in Spain with Lancelot. He could do more work, but to be honest, he's done for the day.

His phone is still on, though.

With a sigh of the resigned, Harry loads the app store.

* * *

By the time Harry’s caught up to where Eggsy was stuck on, he realizes that he has a bit of a problem.

Thanks to years of training and a certain mindset, he's good at hiding whatever tasks or thoughts that need to be done in secret. The game is always played on mute, his thumb is within easy reach of the home button, and the thrill of getting past another level never shows on his face.

But, to his shame, it’s beginning to become rather addictive.

He spends a full half-hour blazing through the levels until he hits the end of an episode, where it tells him that he must either pay to advance or wait seventy-two hours. The only reason why he doesn’t choose the former option is because of a scheduled meeting with the head of the Italian branch of Kingsman.

He steals minutes, seconds, when Eggsy takes a shower or walks JB or gets up to wash the dishes. He begins to mentally plan games as he used to do with chess. He closes his eyes at night and only sees rows of candies ready to be eliminated.

It's the colors, he thinks, or the cheerful sounds and bright flash when an entire row or column disappears with a flick of his finger. It could be the fast-paced nature of certain levels or the strategy with obstacles of jelly, rotating rows, falling owls, and ticking time bombs. It may also be because of the way he keeps progressing through the board, passing hundreds of players each day. 

He doesn't know, but continues to play, promising himself he'd go a week, a day, a few hours without touching his phone. 

And he cannot.

But the truly lowest point is when he strides into a room full of recruits, who snap to attention with a sharp command from Merlin. Their heads are held high, arms behind their back, heels put together. They stand in a neat row, their suits various shades of grey and blue and brown.

Harry stares coolly at them. One, Tristan’s candidate, is in dark navy blue. On her right side are two young men wearing grey suits, and on her left is Bors’s nephew, also in grey, then two young women in blue.

He gestures at Tristan’s candidate and commands, “Gabriella, please switch places with Duncan.”

Both of them look confused, but obediently do as he says.

Now, the six candidates form matching colored rows: three blue and three grey. Harry surveys them, then nods once more in approval, hearing a triumphant _ding!_ in his head.   

It is then when he realizes that he must quit.

* * *

Harry doesn’t have the nerve to delete the app off his phone, as Eggsy once mentioned deleting without backing it up to Facebook or the official site would permanently erase his progress. He should think better of his sanity to have not done either of these things, but truthfully, his habits of a spy have erased a need for marking his presence on anything Internet-related.

Instead, he creates a password-locked folder and seals the game away. He purposely closes his eyes as he types a random set of four-digit numbers, refusing to think that yes, he can hack into the folder if he so wishes. Restraint. That’s all he needs. He’s a Kingsman. He cannot break.

* * *

 He breaks.

* * *

“Hey, Harry, what level are you on?”

Harry’s finger is on the home button, but it’s too late.

Eggsy’s looming over his desk, one hand resting on a stack of unopened folders, and beaming the way he does after cracking a safe. “Hey, I texted you about lunch, right?” He nods at Harry’s phone. “Guess you were busy, huh?”

“I was…” Harry trails off, beginning to arm himself with what he knows best: manners. “I apologize, Eggsy, for not replying back to you.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Just goes to show that even _you_ can fall prey to human vices.” Eggsy winks. “Addicted, yeah?”

Harry can only stare before uttering, “How did you know?”

Eggsy shrugs. “I’m a spy, too, love. I know you don’t have games on your phone, and when you want to get in touch, you use your glasses because the only people you text or call are me, my mum, and targets on a mission. And if you need to do work, you do it on your tablet or computer because the screen is bigger and has better software.” He smirks. “Besides, you don’t swipe all over the screen when you’re typing.”

“Truly, your skillset is formidable.” Harry turns off his phone, slipping it into his trousers. “I’m sorry, Eggsy. I don’t...truly, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. It’s…”

“There’s a reason why I deleted it.” Eggsy smiles at whatever expression Harry has on his face. “Yeah, it...it took over a bit, and you were right about it being unattainable and all that shit.” He shrugs again. “Merlin quit, and _he_ had to create some weird program that kicked him out as soon as he opened it and wouldn’t allow him to download it again.”

“Did he?” Harry asks, surprised, and Eggsy nods.

"That means you can quit, too. Besides, you’d be surprised at what other tasks you can complete when you’re not playing it.” He then winks, slowly placing both hands on Harry’s shoulders. Looking up, Harry realizes for the first time that Eggsy’s jacket is hanging open to the white shirt underneath, sans the tie and a few of the top buttons.

“Ah,” Harry says, leaning back in his chair. “I see. You think you have an alternative distraction?”

Eggsy leans in, lips just ghosting over his. “I think I can.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was just simply fluff and silliness. I apologize.


End file.
